Reflection on a broken mirror
by wanderingsmith
Summary: S/W - John sees something he never wants to see again - UST


Summary: S/W - John sees something he never wants to see again - UST  
Rating: PG13  
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this.

AN: _started this back in August... many thanks to chiarahhue, anuna_81 and n7cdrshepard for all their varied help and encouragement getting this satisfactory! :D_

_..surely in your eyes is where all our honor is kept. - Lois McMasters Bujold, A civil campaign_

_You've won yourself a twisted poor modern knight, to wear your favour on his sleeve. But it's a twisted poor world we were both born into. That rejects us without mercy and ejects us without consultation. At least I won't just tilt at windmills for you. I'll send in sappers to mine the twirling suckers, and blast them into the sky... - Lois McMasters Bujold, Borders of infinity_

_You pour out honour like a fountain, all around you - Lois McMasters Bujold, Shards of honour_

"..So you believe them about this terrorist attack?" Elizabeth watched her just-returned lead team, wondering why there was an odd 'vibe' coming from them.  Feeling her tension focus in and climb with how pale and shocky John seemed, even though they all insisted, and Carson confirmed, that they hadn't been injured. 

"Yeah," John answered quietly, "They didn't ask for help, didn't deny there were dissidents. I think they were honestly trying to keep us safe when they hustled us out."

Elizabeth could see Teyla shooting him careful mothering looks and was even more disturbed that he wasn't meeting anyone's eyes; not even hers. "Alright. So I guess we'll wait for them to contact us. Unless there's anything else?" Not that she expected whatever was going on to be brought up at this point...

General head shakes lead to everyone getting up and Elizabeth was as reassured as she was further worried when John automatically followed her to her office. He didn't say anything as he slouched into his usual chair though, not even looking up at her as she sat down. It just wasn't like him to be so still -let along so quiet-, and she felt uncalled-for dread build in her. 

She knew that he wasn't the happy-go-lucky pilot he sometimes remembered to pretend to be, knew that he struggled with the things they'd had to do; choices and sacrifices that had no 'good' answers.  Choosing lesser evils left lasting scars in the soul, in one's sense of self; and self-worth. 

That he managed to keep the ache hidden day-to-day called on her to honour his strength by allowing herself to take the façade at face value; or seem to.  And if in giving that respect she was herself put under strain.. so must it be.  But that just made it wrench even deeper when she saw him like this.  She just couldn't, *wouldn't*, leave him to twist in pain alone. 

So she swallowed the worry and spoke quietly, careful not to make light of his need to present the world with reliable firmness, but knowing that she was his friend, and that if he had allowed himself to stay with her rather than make her hunt him down, then almost certainly he *did* want to talk, at least at some level, "John? Is something wrong?"

He jerked slightly; and *that* wasn't like him either, to be so deeply lost in his thoughts so quickly. Even when he looked up, he didn't focus on her, just looked in her general direction and stuttered, "Err. No.."

"You look.. shell-shocked." she frowned worriedly and let the unspoken question hang before him; let her worry for him hang before him.  They'd wordlessly developed this relationship to work with their feelings mostly hidden, with only a baseline allowed through -enough to live on, enough to not explode or shrivel up-, but not so much that the distance between them became a strain.  Well, not too often, anyway.

John winced, throwing one apologetic look toward her before looking away again.  She'd feel worse for the slight, almost unconscious, emotional blackmail of letting her feelings show if he hadn't used the same on *her* in the past.  If she didn't know as well as he did that they weren't perfect, and needed, sometimes, to let out some of the things that they buried daily.

Showing he knew, had probably known all along, that he needed to talk about whatever had affected him, he started slowly; his quiet making it very hard for her not to reach out to him. 

"You know how they used to say that somewhere in the world there was someone who looked just like you?" When his flow seemed ready to peter out, she nodded encouragingly and he picked up again with patently faked cheer, "And they just meant Earth! With two galaxies of planets now..."

His twitching hands wanted to tell more of the story, but his voice faded again, so Elizabeth tried to guess what could have him so thrown, "Did you meet your twin?" That could certainly be disturbing if the other had a life you either envied or hated...

John shook his head, speaking in a jerky monotone now, "Our guide. When he was getting us out of the town after the explosions. We found.. his wife. Dead." The last word was a whisper as he looked up, focusing haunted eyes on her, seeming to look at every inch of her face as she froze with a premonitory chill. Fear, sorrow and pain still had threads in the quiet of his voice when he finally finished the explanation. "For a second... I was sure it was you." This time she wasn't surprised when he looked away; back to sitting too still.

Elizabeth got up slowly, stiff with sympathetic pain; she knew enough of what he was feeling, even without seeing it in his expression.  She came around to stand next to him, hesitatingly squeezing his shoulder, fighting the need to offer more.. and not sure what she could *say*. John glanced up, still not meeting her eyes as he twitched under her touch, tense, trying to hold himself unmoving even as his head twitched toward her hand before jerking back upright, "I'll be fine. Just.. a little shook up."

That simple statement -his willingness to *speak* it- inherently gave away more feelings than... Unable to think of a way to help him within the bounds of their relationship, Elizabeth just nodded, understanding perfectly why he was shaken; and why he'd followed her.  "Why don't we go over your personnel evaluations?"

John smiled bleakly at his hands, unmoving in his lap, and nodded, obviously grateful for the pride-saving reason to stay. She had a feeling he would have remained even without it.. but probably not as long, and they'd have both been a little too aware of why.  Sitting back down and looking at the report on her screen, Elizabeth forced a teasing grin onto her lips, "Unless you'd like to help me go over Rodney's latest project requests?"  Humour had always served them well to lighten surfacing too-deep sentiments.

She'd expected a groan or a shudder of revulsion -however faked-, but he surprised her by shrugging without commentary, "Sure. Pass me a viewer with half."  She could hardly refuse the never-before received offer, but she was just as glad when Ronon showed up, half an hour later. 

Silently trying to read while looking up worriedly at an equality silent John every few minutes was tense work; the evaluations would have at least engaged them -distracted them-.  She took the viewer back without comment as her friend was convinced to go to practice with his teammate, watching him walk away with a jerky version of his usual swagger.

* * *

Later that night, when she found herself staring at an un-cooperatively blank screen while her mind replayed the same scenario of grief and loss over and over, Elizabeth decided she would be more useful elsewhere and took her tablet to the cafeteria, grimly pleased with her guesswork when she found John sitting at a window table in the deserted darkness. Sitting down next to him without waiting for acknowledgment, she laid the computer down between them and pulled up Rodney's requests.  It would work as an excuse for *her* too.

John looked at her affectionately, seeming a little better, at least, than earlier; he was looking *at* her now.  Although the fact that he'd opted to stay up instead of going to bed after a long day gave its own message of fear; or nightmares.  "You don't have to do this."

She ignored the implication in the gentle words as she split the screen so they could each take a section to go over.  Playing dumb, she gave him an absent, bland, "Do what?"  She didn't hold much hope he'd drop it, but it was worth a try.  Maybe he'd had enough of emotions for the day...

He put his hand, warm and gentle, over the one she'd left on the table as she moused over her screen with the other, "Take care of me."  Or not.

Elizabeth forced herself to breathe normally, the all-too-simple touch making her feel momentarily protected, like a cloaked arm thrown around her shoulders.  There was a reason they usually avoided letting their skins touch.. they'd both given themselves away at one time or another; honouring the choice to leave feelings unspoken was best done by honouring distance too.  But whether he just needed the closeness tonight, or.. whether he wanted to change the status quo... well, she'd deal with tomorrow when it came. 

For tonight, she hesitated, then chose to answer honestly, meeting his tired look with her own loneliness bared, "Yes, actually, I do." *Not* being able to take care of him actually hurt sometimes; *knowing* he was somewhere, lonely and in pain...

He hesitated too, before lacing their fingers together and giving her a sad smile of 'I've been there' understanding.  Then he started reading his assigned text, ignoring the way she watched him for a few seconds more.  They'd gotten good at ignoring; it allowed them to keep these crumbs to survive on.

* * *

John tried to concentrate on the gibberish on the screen, honestly wanting to help. He wasn't a child, he *could* work; he just hated the 'sit at a computer and read' thing. And when his mind was filled with pain and fear that he couldn't do anything about... Rodney's pomposity became a mixed blessing fast; distractions only work as long as you can make yourself focus on *them*.

Instead, John kept seeing the guide's wife laying on the blood-stained ground, seeing a mirror of his life breaking as he stood frozen; shattering into pieces he could do nothing about.

Seeing Citizen Sirval crouched over the woman he loved, shaking with utterly silent sobs, he kept getting double vision, kept seeing himself from some anonymous third perspective, crouching over.. John's eyes closed as he swallowed the wave of imagined grief that hit him.

Seeing himself crouching over Elizabeth. Damn he hated these incidental hammers life found to attack with.

"John?"

He opened his eyes as she turned her hand in his and squeezed. Meeting eyes as worn-out as he felt, he nodded acknowledgment of the concern and got back to reading. He still wondered sometimes, what kept her as silent as him; even as their feelings reached the point that they couldn't be hidden. Nor denied.  It had taken a year to even contemplate the fact that Elizabeth might just be as afraid of a relationship as he was; afraid of the destruction that seemed to be the only result for him. And maybe for her too?

Still. Whenever death came too near either of them, like now, John was tempted, and he was sure she had been too, just a little, to take the risk and try to get them closer... but neither of them had ever had ever taken the leap.

And after a while, he'd realized that the non-tactile friendship between them meant too much to him to be risked. That between losing it to his cursed luck and losing Elizabeth to death... there was no difference. He'd break. Slow or fast; fading out or self-destructing with a bang. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn't, so why risk shortening their time together by even an instant?  He'd only be hastening the agony.

Sometimes -especially when another nightmare was added to his roster- John wondered if there was really a point to this life in the end. A point to this barren, endless existence. 

But then she would walk up to him and the nightmare would be pushed aside; he'd find himself smiling without knowing why, feeling lighter and more aware. Would fall into step besides her and *know*, to the bone, that he was alive.

And he was cared for.

Because he wasn't blind, he could feel Elizabeth's affection for him as much as he felt his love for her. But only children thought love was all it took, and only those who didn't really care, only *thought* they loved, were casually willing to risk the existing love just to get sex when they knew themselves to not be able to maintain that relationship.

There were moments when he worried that she might not know how he felt.  Might not know that she wasn't alone; would never be truly alone so long as he had strength in his body to give to her.  But however strained she looked, however exhausted and heartsick, when her eyes met his... he told himself he could see them settle a little; see her acknowledge his care and let herself accept it. 

It wasn't much, but in the end, the *point*, was just to *live*. To take every breath and fight to stay as close as they could to each other; to stay alive for each other. And if that left him, left *them*, lonely for too much of their time... so be it; they were *needed*, had a struggle to continue, people to protect, and they could only do that properly *together*.

Fight on: they made *each other* do it. A silent demand for strength and loyalty and honour that they laid on each other with every look, word and touch. And were drawn to fulfill to their last breaths.


End file.
